


Storm Clouds

by mrvvrench



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Comfort, M/M, Storms, afraid of storms, i hope so, is kissing considered gen audience?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrvvrench/pseuds/mrvvrench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Numbers is terrified storms, Wrench comforts him. A little fic I put together based off a headcanon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [ this post ](http://mrwrencher.tumblr.com/post/88344008388/someone-write-me-a-drabble-ficlet-about-numbers) by [ mrwrencher ](http://mrwrencher.tumblr.com/) on tumblr so I wrote a little thing based off of it. And then forgot to upload it here so doing that now.

Numbers stares out the motel window while the TV plays in the background. Closed captioning is on, but Wrench isn’t really paying attention. He’s watching Numbers.   
  
The shorter man watches the clouds moving around in the sky. It’s storm season in the heart of Tornado Alley where they’re trapped for this case. Even with the air conditioning thrumming at full blast in the the little room, there’s still a heated, muggy feeling in the air. 

 

Numbers listens as the newsman prattles off warnings and watches; his brow lifts upwards in concern as the clouds get darker.   
  
He hates storms. There’s no reason to. He’s never been hurt in one. It’s irrational, but the minute the air changes, he’s on edge. The lightning disturbs him, but that’s not what gets him. It’s the loud thunder. Every crash sends his heart fluttering too fast for his body.   
  
His fingers curl into his palms; nails dig in as a light flashes in the distance. Any minute now the storm would be above them. He hears shuffling around behind him, but his ears are too busy listening for the sounds of thunder he wished he could just ignore to make out what his partner is doing behind him.   
  
Small claps of thunder happen first. His body starts shaking but he can’t peel his eyes away from the sky. Rain begins to pelt down in heavy, dark sheets. The air temperature drops as hail begins to fall. The sounds only add to his mounting fear. Winds pick up and the rain starts coming down sideways in the heavy gusts.   
  
Wrench watches his partner, glancing at the window every now and then. He likes storms. He thinks they’re beautiful. But then again he can’t hear what Numbers can and he knows how afraid his partner is.   
  
The lights flicker twice before the power goes out and the dark consumes them. Numbers’s heart hammers in his chest harder and harder. He feels like he might be having a heart attack.   
  
One by one tiny dancing lights like fireflies light the room. Wrench sets each candle ablaze before turning to his partner whose still glued to the window.   
  
A hesitant hand places itself softly, so softly on his shoulder as to not scare him further. A beam of light shines and Wrench hands Numbers a flash light. It takes a moment for the smaller man to realize that Wrench has lit a bunch of candles. He signs a quick thank you, but doesn’t take his eyes off the storm raging outside.   
  
A particularly loud clap of thunder that Wrench can  _feel_ causes panic to flare in Numbers’s eyes as the flames from the candle flicker and catch them in their light.   
  
Wrench wraps him in his arms and steers him towards the bed. For a second Numbers hesitates and resists the lead, but he eventually sinks into Wrench’s soft demands. He sits slowly on the edge of the bed as Wrench drops down beside him. “It’s okay,” he signs to him, locking his green eyes onto Numbers’s brown ones.   
  
Numbers nods, but Wrench knows he doesn’t really believe it. Snaps of thunder fill the room once more and Numbers’s eyes wince shut as if in pain. And Wrench knows he is. His heart flutters as he’s consumed with sadness for his partner.   
  
Every time he tries to distract him from the storm, and nothing works. Because they’re in cheap motels, the power always goes out and there’s no TV or sound to help override the thunder. Wrench wishes he could do more for him than just simply sign “It’s okay.”   
  
A hand envelopes Numbers’s own, as Wrench tries to help. He feels the man tense underneath him, one hand clawing at his shirt as the one beneath his turns upwards and grasps Wrench’s hand. He holds on for dear life as another clap of thunder rattles the windows.   
  
"Sorry," he whispers and attempts to untangle his fingers from Wrench’s shirt, but Wrench stops him. Quickly he leans down and places a gentle kiss on Numbers’s lips. He doesn’t know why he does it; he’s never kissed him before. He knows he probably shouldn’t. He feels like he’s taking advantage of Numbers. But he looked so genuinely sorry that he was afraid and his lips looked beautiful in the candle light and Wrench honestly loves him.   
  
He just hasn’t worked out how to tell him. Numbers is so stubborn with his feelings; has them guarded and locked away and only little by little does he show them. Wrench would wait a lifetime if that’s what it took.   
  
Even in the dim lit room, Wrench can tell Numbers’s face is flushed. His hands draw away from Wrench and he brings them up to sign, “What was that for?”   
  
Wrench hesitates; chews at his lip for a moment. “You look so helpless I wanted to help,” he signed back, trying to pick his words carefully. “It makes me sad to see you like this,” he continues and for a moment he watches guilt flash in those eyes he’s staring into. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” Wrench signs quickly, making sure Numbers is looking at him. He needs him to believe him.   
  
It feels like an eternity before Numbers looks away from Wrench’s eyes before lifting his hands. “Will you do it again?” A bolt of lightning brightens the room for a split second, before thunder follows not far behind. Numbers is shaking all over again. His hands sign a feeble “please”.   
  
Wrench nods and leans back in, pressing Numbers into the headboard. His body envelopes him as his hand comes up to rub his thumb over Numbers’s cheek, trying to soothe his nerves.   
  
Underneath the large hitman, Numbers finds himself feeling warm and safe and his lips return the kiss as Wrench presses against him even more. He hears the thunder for a moment and his body shakes a little, but the security he feels from his partner’s body is wonderful and relieving and beautiful. His heart hammers in his chest for completely different reasons than the storm.   
  
It’s hard to admit anything to himself about love or friendship or the fine line between the two. But right now, hidden safely away underneath his partner’s arms, his mouth opening for Wrench’s tongue, he feels better than he’s felt in a long time. The next rumble of thunder doesn’t even cause him to shake; he clings tighter to Wrench because he  _wants_ him closer. Wants to feel his body, his hands, his  _heart_ closer. He presses in and it’s not nearly enough, but he’ll take it. Their lips move together; hands rubbing across exposed skin here, tugging at hair or shirts there.  
  
Hot hands trail slowly along his body and Wrench pulls away after what feels like an eternity to the two. “I’m sorry, I’m taking advantage of you, we shouldn’t—” but Numbers stops him, wrapping his hands around Wrench’s giant wrists; they were seemingly small in compassion.   
  
"No, don’t be," he tells him. "The storm stopped ten minutes ago." His hands leave Wrench’s wrists. "How long have you felt this way?" he signs slowly, "about me?" he adds after a moment, though Wrench didn’t need Numbers to clarify.   
  
"A while," he shrugs a little.   
  
"Were you ever going to tell me?"  
  
"Probably. I was going to let you figure it out for yourself," he explains, nervously scratching at the grizzle on his face.   
  
"And if I didn’t?"   
  
"Then it meant you didn’t like me back."   
  
Numbers furrows his brow. If he was honest with himself, he had realized a few hits ago. Wrench was catering to his every need, without being asked and being there for him when Numbers didn’t even know he’d needed him. He knew, but he just wasn’t sure he was willing to admit it; or trust it. ”And if I did?”   
  
"Do you?"   
  
Flushing, Numbers fidgets around a little, his eyes drawing towards the window. The world outside was beginning to calm again. The sun was trying to push through the dark clouds. Hail damage was every where and in the distance, a siren could be heard as ambulances and firetrucks were making their way past downed power lines and trees.   
  
His heart swelled as he thought about his answer to the question Wrench posed. He supposed he did. He didn’t know if he trusted that feeling just yet. But he knew he was important to him. Knew that he needed him. And most of all, that he  _wanted_ him. Despite his bad habits and annoying tendencies and the way he teased Numbers, Wrench was the best friend he’d ever had; if not the only. And maybe he was more than that to him.   
  
He shrugs really quickly and avoids looking at Wrench while he signs “Probably. I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.” His grin is hard to miss, even as he attempts to hide his face from the candle light.   
  
"Can I kiss you again?" Wrench signs.   
  
Numbers simply nods, his heart hammering in his chest, as he opens it a little more for his partner.


End file.
